There’s a market today
In this sweltering heat
There is a market.
Hundreds of parcels wrapped in brown paper
Spoiling in the sun.
The smell of rotting meat is not imagined
Nor the little drops of crimson seeping down the shelves.
There is a market today. And everyday.
With pieces of me sold at too low a price
To people who don’t value my meat.
Not in this heat.